


Turpentine

by lye_tea



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/F, F/M, Farroncest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lye_tea/pseuds/lye_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chemistry favors the homogeneous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turpentine

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Farroncest is my current OTP. I ship them so hard, not even sorry.

** Turpentine **

There's a simple law of nature: like dissolves like.

And this tidbit of sapience she imparts upon her sister again and again. But for some reason (probably jealousy or spite) Serah refuses to listen,  _to take to heart what is best for her_. Which leaves Claire furious and vindictive. Which galvanizes the whole vicious cycle.

"I love him," Serah declares. Proud and tall, she gazes dead-straight into Claire's eyes, refusing to recoil or surrender or confess her mistake. "There's nothing you can do about it. I love Snow."

"You don't understand what love is. You two don't belong together."

"How can you say that? He makes me happy. He's there for me. You wouldn't know. You don't love anyone, Claire."

"I love  _you_."

Serah's eyes go wide as her sister storms out. Claire keeps her back rigid, hands clenched into tight-wrung fists at her thighs.

\--

When Snow kisses her, she is elated and jittery, knees weak and head unable to think. She caresses his cheek (wishes he would shave more often) and imagines how they'd look fifty years from now. How old and frail they will be, strolling along with an undying sun. And if Claire will be lonely (still alive).

"Did you tell Lightning? I've started looking into apartments already."

Hesitant, she shakes her head and tickles his nose with kisses. "Not yet."

And slyly, she looks away, afraid that he'll otherwise dislodge her secrets and destroy them both.

\--

Claire doesn't return home for three days, and Serah thinks of the endless, horrible possibilities that might have occurred. But then she remembers that Claire—that  _Light_ —is a soldier first and foremost.

Sighing, she reaches for the phone one more time.

\--

When Snow drops her off after school, he is careful not to intrude. Quietly, he lets his motorcycle burn out before stashing it down the street. There's something about Lightning that makes him edgy (cagey) and he'd rather not antagonize her more.

So, he gives Serah a chaste kiss and watches her head toward her house. Her shoulders are tense and stiff, and there's a slight trembling to her lips. As she turns around to wave goodbye, her brilliant smile shocks him sore and miserable. And he thinks of how lucky he is to have a girl like her.

When Snow is the one to give her a lift home, she is simultaneously relieved and annoyed. She enjoys having his company (sneaking off like the naughty kids they are) down the lonesome highways but is afraid that Claire will see them together. And that is a disaster she just cannot bear.

Like when he plants furtive kisses on her and she's staring off, wondering where her sister is. Or they're singing along, badly off-tune, to the nostalgic voice on the radio, and Serah keeps thinking (hoping) it's secretly Claire serenading her.

\--

Snow is probably the best boyfriend in the world. He's so supportive, so considerate (never forgets an anniversary, even when she does), is just  _so fucking perfect_. And she's sick of it.

But seeing him now, almost nervous, having asked her to move in with him, she merely smiles and assures that she'll think about it (talk to Claire).

\--

Examining the mountain of unwashed brushes and cadmium-caked palettes, Serah bites her lip and can't recall what prompted her to undertake this fiasco. The canvas is splattered with ugly streams of browns and chartreuse (how do you mix that shade again?).

She's got ink on her hands and chalk in her hair. There's oil everywhere, staining her skin. Diligent and profusely, she scrubs her arms, but the colors cling and clamor to her like lost orphans. Except she is lost too in this dense, cruel forest without a light.

Her mind strays to Snow. Grimacing, she tries to wash away the ugly thoughts. They're so different, opposites, but they've come so far. They just have to try a little harder.

Absentmindedly, she checks the clock again.

Claire is late.

The phone rings.  
Snow, hello?  
Hey.

\--

"So, did you tell her?"

Snow's face is optimistic. He flashes a winsome smile, and she feels her heart breaking. But steadily, she gains the courage.  _It's for the best._

"I've been thinking…maybe it's not such a good idea that we move in together."

"Oh come on, are you afraid of how Lightning will react? She'll understand. She's your sister. She can't be mad forever."

Serah shakes her head. "It's not that. I'm all she has. I don't want her to come back to an empty house. I don't want to leave her alone."

"But what about us?"

"We're happy together, right? That's what counts. And one day, it'll happen. Just not right now."

Even though he is defeated and she wants to flee, he holds her gently and whisper into her ear. He understands. It'll be fine. Like how it's meant to be.

\--

On the few days she is off from duty, Claire drags herself home, exhausted and thankful for the chance to sleep in the next morning. Serah usually has dinner prepared, hot and waiting for hungry mouths to claim.

Sometimes, they would unwind the night with a movie or stilted conversation. And other times, they would sit quietly on the porch, curled against one another, and anticipate the bursting of stars. Serah brings out a pitcher of iced tea while she piles the hammock with blankets.

She likes those nights the best. Just the two of them, ensconced and camouflaged from the big, bad Out There World. They can let themselves dissolve together and pretend that nothing else is real.

Wrapping an arm around her sister, Claire feels secure—having secured. As long as they've got each other, it'll be all right. Like it always has.

 


End file.
